You published your first book „Love Saves The Day“ in 2003, and although there had been plenty of literature on the topic of the classic Disco era of the 70s in New York City, it still stood out. What led you to write it?

I don’t know if that much had been written. Albert Goldman’s book „Disco“ had come out in 1979 and contains a small amount of information on David Mancuso’s private party, the Loft, and the Sanctuary, the discotheque where the pioneering Francis Grasso DJed, but it’s main focus is on the midtown discotheque Studio 54. In 1997 Anthony Haden-Guest published „The Last Party“, but that was mainly about Studio 54 and was largely concerned with celebrity culture. Both had a completely difficult reading of disco to the one I developed in “Love Saves the Day”, which focused on the influence of DJs on the rise of dance culture and what came to be known as Disco. I thought they missed the underlying dynamic of what made the culture so exciting.

Is it true that „Loves Saves The Day“ originally started out as an introductory chapter of a book about House Music?

Yes, that is true. The book about House Music was supposed to start in mid-1980s Chicago and then move on to New York City and the beginnings of UK Rave culture. I was born in 1967, so for me Disco was the music I liked when I was a kid, because the music reached its commercial peak in 1977/78. By the time I was in my 20s I was ready for something completely different and that came in the form of House Music, thus the original idea for the book. But I ended up interviewing David Mancuso early into my research, even though he was a relatively unknown figure at the time, and when he suggested that the history should begin with the Loft in 1970 I asked other interviewees, including house legends Tony Humphries, Frankie Knuckles and David Morales, if they’d heard of David and the Loft. They all replied that the Loft had been a transformational experience and so I quickly came to understand that the history of underground dance culture—a culture that ended up inspiring Disco—had yet to be narrated. Initially I thought I’d write a chapter about the 1970s but by the time I’d written 500 pages I’d only reached the end of 1979, so that turned out to be a book in itself. I just became fascinated by the way in which the communication between the person selecting the records and the dancing crowd introduced an entirely different form of musicianship to the world.

This marked the beginnings of contemporary DJ culture and it amounted to a form of democratic music-making that was firmly rooted in the counterculture, or the social forces that were unfolding in the US of that era. Before the beginning the 1970s DJs were required to “kill the dance floor” with a slow song every five or six records in order to persuade dancers to buy a drink. But when Mancuso and Grasso started playing at the beginning of 1970 they played to dancers who were rooted in the culture of gay liberation, civil rights, feminism, experimentation with LSD, and the anti-war movement. Grasso was already playing at the Sanctuary in the late 1960s and told me it was quite boring, but when the Sancutary became the first public discotheque to welcome gay men onto the dance floor at the beginning of 1970 the dancing became much more energetic and Grasso decided to try to maintain the intensity by inventing the technique of mixing two records together. Mancuso, meanwhile, started to hold dance parties in his downtown loft on Valentine’s Day 1970 and gave the party the name “Love Saves the Day”, which referenced universal love and the acid trip. Rather than mix records together, Mancuso took his dancers on a transformational journey through the juxtaposition of sound.

There is a direct lineage from the early days of The Loft through to New York dane venues such as the Paradise Garage, because the Garage owner Michael Brody and his resident DJ Larry Levan were Loft regular. The influence extends to the origins of House Music, because Robert Williams attended the Loft before he opened the Warehouse in Chicago, where he employed Frankie Knuckles to DJ, and the coinage House Music first referred to the music Knuckles would play at the Warehouse. Knuckles was also a Loft regular. So in many paths led back to the Loft. Everything seemed to be connected.

Were the interviewees in „Love Saves The Day“ waiting to tell their story?

Yes, because up to then it had not really been told, even if their cultural influence in the 70s turned out to be enormous. By the time I got home after that first interview with David Mancuso word there were five messages from people he knew and who were ready to talk on my answer machine—so it seems as though he trusted me and that there was a desire for this untold story to be told. One of the messages was from the DJ Steve D’Acquisto, who introduced me to Francis Grasso, and so things unfolded from there. This all took place in 1997, so a couple of years, I believe, before Bill Brewster and Frank Broughton started to track down David and Francis for their book „Last Night A DJ Saved My Life“.

Did you feel it was important to emphasize the political aspects of Disco?

I would say they emphasised themselves because Disco was so obviously political. The backlash against Disco peaked with the Disco Demolition night at a baseball game in Chicago’s Comiskey Park on July 12th 1979, where a local radio DJ asked the audience to bring Disco records and then blew them up in the middle of the baseball double-header. It amounted to a Mid-Western backlash against the multicultural and polysexual coalition that underpinned disco culture and I’ve argued that in many respects we can track the rise of Donald Trump (and before him Ronald Reagan) to this moment. Disco became one of the first scapegoats for the decline of industrial culture in the United States and Trump appealed to the same disenfranchised and discontented demographic. I’m always interested in the correlation between music scenes and the wider culture in which they occur. So “Love Saves the Day” was about more than Disco, even if Disco was one of its central concerns. It’s important to remember that Disco music didn’t emerge as a genre until 1974, so the first for years of the book analyse a period when the culture was fermenting but didn’t have a name or a settled sound. It’s also important to note the version of disco depicted in „Saturday Night Fever“ had very little to do with the kind of culture that was still taking place in downtown New York, and by the end of 1978 downtown DJs were also becoming tired of commercial disco. The quality of the music had declined and it was time for something new. But the downtown expression of the culture survived the backlash. Read the rest of this entry »

The work on your book on Arthur Russell, “Hold On To Your Dreams”, has probably made you quite an expert on his works, but when was actually the first time you heard “Go Bang! #5″? Was it the song as a single, or did you hear it in the context of the whole “24 – 24 Music” album?

I first heard François Kevorkian’s remix of “Go Bang! #5” when I bought the “Spaced Out: Ten Original Disco Funk Grooves” back in 1997. I was living in New York at the time, and being a bit of a house head, had been quite resistant to buying so-called “disco classics”. By then I had already heard Todd Terry’s sampling of Lola Blank’s crazed-girl-on-helium rendition of the “Go Bang” lyric, which appeared on “Bango (To The Batmobile),” a 1988 house track. I only got to hear the version that appears on the“24 → 24 Music” album – which is titled “#5 Go Bang!” – later on.

Arthur Russell was responsible for a whole lot of outstanding music. Why did you choose “Go Bang! #5″ over other of his songs? What makes it so important for you?

The first thing I should probably say is that “#5 Go Bang!” appeared on an album by Dinosaur L, not an album by Arthur Russell. Of course Arthur (if I can call him by his first name; at times I feel as though I know him, even though we never met) was the key figure behind Dinosaur L, and pulled all of the appearing musicians together. But Arthur was dead-set on the idea of collaboration, and believed that the relationships he formed with other musicians were meaningful, so he introduced different names for the different line-ups he formed.

Why is “Go Bang” so important? That’s the record that I’ve always thought his most complete, inasmuch as it seemed to capture Arthur’s utopian desire to combine the various sounds of downtown New York – disco, punk/new wave, loft jazz, and the post-minimalist form of compositional music known as new music – in a single piece of music. The record also combines complexity and simplicity; it contains scores of ideas, yet never relinquishes the centrality of the groove. I like all sorts of music, but I particularly like music that manages to combine these elements. I could have also opted instead for “Kiss Me Again”, “Platform On The Ocean”, the “World of Echo” album, “This Is How We Walk On the Moon”. “World of Echo” is an extraordinary piece of work, “Kiss Me Again” gets better by the listen. But “Go Bang” is the one that stands out, especially in terms of dance floor dynamics, plus Arthur was happy with the “Go Bang” turned out, whereas he hated the final mix of “Kiss Me Again” and seemed to feel awkward about the obscure quality of “World of Echo”. Read the rest of this entry »